


Broken Halos

by hungrydean



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (Obviously No Homo), Angst, Case Fic, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fallen Cas, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Dean, Pining, bed sharing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 18:15:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15273399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hungrydean/pseuds/hungrydean
Summary: Cas lost his grace. Well, most of it. He’s almost entirely human and not sure if he will ever get his grace back. Dean wants him to know that as a human, they care about him just as much. And since Dean isn’t that good with words, working a case in a luxurious, romantic resort might just be the thing they need. If only he could remember that the romantic relationship is just for show.





	Broken Halos

**Author's Note:**

> All the thanks to Sarah for being my lovely beta and supportive mom throughout this again. Way too lucky to have you <3  
> Thank to those who supported along the way as well (:
> 
> Art masterpost by the wonderful dreymart is [here](http://dreymart.tumblr.com/post/175841687238/illustrations-for-this-years-deancasminibang)!
> 
> Oh and I suggest listening to [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sI0TeFf6uD8)\- you'll know when.

Dean’s eyes went from the road to Cas. Cas, the road. The road, Cas. He didn’t have to be sneaky about it because Cas was asleep. They’d been driving for a few hours now. If Dean wasn’t so used to the normal slump of driving it might’ve been boring with only a sleeping Cas for company. He’d even kept the music low so Cas wouldn’t wake up. But Dean was okay with being alone for a bit. It wasn’t too bad—despite how scary his own thoughts were, sometimes ignoring them was worse. His mind was often fixed on a few recurring themes; hunting, Sam, Jack, mom, his own fucked up self, and Cas. Currently, he was mostly thinking about the last one.

Cas lost his grace a few weeks ago. Not all of it, but most. So much that he didn’t have the energy to fully regain his powers. They’d been trying to find ways to get it back, but had had to settle with the lack of angel mojo as hunts kept appearing and they had to keep going. So after a while, Cas’ grace issue was yet another one on their pile of Things We Can’t Seem To Fix, together with the fact they had a nephil in the Bunker, their mother back from the dead, and the fact that Sam still hadn’t cut his hair.

Dean kind of hoped that they would find something on a job, a way to bring back Cas’ grace or, if that wasn’t possible, let Cas know they wanted him to stay around. He looked at the sleeping half-angel, his black hair covering part of his face, his eyebrows in a deep frown.

“Don’t worry so much, buddy,” Dean said, soft enough to not wake Cas. “You’ll be okay.” The frown didn’t leave and Dean stared at the road. Part of the reason he brought Cas along was because he hoped to get to talk about it—a real one, because Cas hadn’t really spoken about the loss of his grace, his power, since it happened. Part of the reason was because Dean didn’t want Cas to be alone. But also, he didn’t want Cas to be apart from him. Dean didn’t feel like staying home with Jack and his mom, which Sam had offered. The alternative, spending as long as they needed to solve the case in a luxurious vacation home, seemed like the better option.

The only problem was the idea of other people thinking that he and Cas were a _thing;_ the residence was only meant for couples, to ‘escape from the boring life and enjoy each other fully’, or whatever the flyer had said. Dean didn’t remember, he’d just realized that he’d have to spend a long time with Cas, pretending to be his _partner,_ and his emotions had turned into the biggest knot thus far. It frightened him, it excited him, it worried him. He was scared because everything would come so close, he was excited because he could _finally_ be a bit more intimate to Cas, he was worried because what if he went too far? Or worse, what if Cas showed no interest in him whatsoever and this entire experience would end up to be one of the most embarrassing, awkward, and heartbreaking experiences of his life?

He should be thinking about more important issues—Cas’ grace or the fact that there have been an inexplicable number of deaths in the residence they are headed toward. Cas had the files on his lap, his thick fingers curved loosely around a pen he had used to write notes.

It started raining and Dean turned on the windshield wipers, reached to get a bottle of water from the back and opened it with one hand with the other on the wheel. He went on like that for a while, driving—eyes sometimes shifting to Cas for a second, thinking about the things he couldn’t fix, listening to the soft tune of a Zeppelin song.

Cas woke up after about two hours of sleep; he yawned and looked around, confused.

“Mornin’.” Dean grinned and handed him the water. “What’d you dream about? Cats, pretty girls in white dresses?” Cas’ frown made Dean’s grin grow wider.

“You,” Cas said, baffling Dean with his honesty. Dean kept smiling but didn’t know how to reply, so he changed the topic.

“We’re almost there.” He nodded at the sign on the road. “Few miles and we get off the highway, then it’s about twenty more miles.”

Cas tried to stretch his back in the tight space of his seat. He seemed uncomfortable, maybe even in pain, but when he saw Dean looking, he didn’t say anything about it. He opened the files instead.

“So it’s like a hotel but with seperate houses?” Cas asked.

“Yeah, it’s way more luxurious,” Dean pointed out. “Like the pictures we looked up—they’re for all those couples that have too much money on them and feel like they deserve to be spoiled for a few days.” Dean _was_ bitter about it, the fact that this existed, but more so that those people didn’t need to spend their days worrying about the things he had to worry about. They had no clue things like monsters existed, things like lost grace and nephilim. Then again, he _was_ gonna spend a few days there now. “Anyways, I’ll be glad when we’re there.” He scratched his neck. “I’m starving and exhausted.”

“If you would allow me to drive, I’d do it. And you ate all the food yourself.”

“Yes, I know, Gumdrop, but you got your back pain so I won’t let you drive. Besides, you didn’t want any food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“How are you _not_ hungry after so long?”

“I’m not used to food, all right? Not this much. Besides, not _all_ my grace is gone. I don’t need to eat as much as you do.” Cas stared out the window, away from Dean. Dean wondered if he was offended, but knew that whatever he came up with to say would only make it worse. So he turned up the music and rolled his aching shoulders. They didn’t pop. He tried his neck but the ache stayed. He decided trying was useless and hummed along with the music as he exited the highway.

The road they took went through a forest, a very generic one; the path just hard enough for a car, too small to pass oncoming traffic without getting into trouble. They were the only ones on the road and for a while, Dean wondered if it even led to anything. But then they drove out of the forest onto a landscape of grass and some trees scattered around. It was pretty, but the harsh rain took away some of the beauty. Cas had decided to read through the files again and, just to fill the silence and clear the air, Dean asked him to repeat the information.

“Three deaths in two weeks, right?”

“Yes.” Cas flipped a page. “There isn’t much about it; the police didn’t want to give away much and said they were still investigating.”

Dean hummed. “Anything else?”

“No.”

“Well at least we’ll find out more soon.” He turned into a sideroad with a sign that said _Aphrodite Resort and Spa_ , _2 miles._ They didn’t see anything that looked like a resort, but the road was lined with trees again and their view was blocked.

“It’s very…secluded.” Cas said as he looked outside. “You wouldn’t know there was anything here.”

“Maybe that’s what they’re going for, a romantic resort is kind of a private thing.”

The word ‘romantic’ made him remember what they were about to do—what they were about to pretend to be. He took a deep breath. It was only around the other people that they had to look like a happy couple. Alone, they could just be Dean and Cas.

“There.” Cas leaned into Dean’s side and pointed. Dean saw what was probably the main building and to its side something that looked like a farmhouse, but newer. Dean whistled.

“At last. Alright, you got the form?” Cas rummaged through the files as Dean drove up to the booth a few hundred feet in front of the main building. Dean rolled his window down, said the general greetings, and got the ticket from Cas. If the woman in the booth was in any way surprised by the fact they were two guys, she didn’t say anything about it. She smiled at them as she handed them a booklet and their ticket back, telling them to get their keys at the main building. She wished them a happy stay and they drove on. “Well,” Dean said as he parked the Impala next to the main building. “One convinced. Let’s get ourselves a resort.”

A few minutes inside to confirm their reservation, and Dean and Cas were back in the Impala heading to their individual house, Dolphin’s Creek. When he pulled into park and walked through the open door, Dean nearly dropped his bag.

“Jesus Christ,” he said, looking at the living room they just stepped into. “A bit luxurious my _ass_. This explains why it’s so expensive.”

“It is quite beautiful.” Cas said calmly as he put his bag down. “You can’t blame people for wanting to visit this place.”

“I wonder what the rest looks like,” Dean said, walking through the living room and gliding his fingers over the big leather couch, eyes on the flat screen TV. The whole room was decorated in shades of brown, beige, and white, with a large rug on the wooden floor, the brick fireplace appeared ready to be lit up.

Cas seemed most interested in the wood of the table, muttering something about its purity. Dean walked over to the kitchen, a bit smaller than the living room but still bigger than most kitchens Dean had been in—he could imagine himself cooking here for everyone, a big meal which everyone would love as they sat around the table in the middle and filled this room with laughter. Then he remembered that they were here for a job and this was only temporary. Suddenly he felt Cas’ hand on his shoulder; he startled and looked around.

“You want to go put our bags upstairs? You also need to rest.” Dean was about to protest, but Cas narrowed his eyes. “You’ve been driving for hours. Come on, Dean.”

Dean sighed, but followed him upstairs. There were only three rooms up here but they were large. The bedroom, again in shades of brown, featured a balcony, a queen size bed, a TV, and another soft rug on the floor. Dean felt it might be a bit _too_ decorated, with all the candles and paintings, but he couldn’t say it lacked anything. The door opposite the bed lead to the bathroom. Castiel was busy taking off his trench coat, but Dean couldn’t keep in his curiosity and opened the door. The bathroom was as luxurious, if not more, than the bedroom. It was spacious and bright and at first it just seemed too big, including a large shower. Then, Dean opened the dark glass door and looked inside. When he saw the walls, the benches, and the odd set up, he got excited.

“Hey Cas!” he yelled, his voice echoing in the room. “We got a friggin’ steam shower!”

“A what?” Cas came walking in. Dean still had to get used to seeing Cas without a trench coat so much. He was wearing one of Dean’s old shirts he often wore when traveling because it was big and comfortable. Dean turned back to the shower.

“Look, it’s pretty cool. These things in the wall give off steam and you can shower afterward. I’ve heard it’s super relaxing.” He wasn’t gonna say that he’d seen some pretty sexy videos happening in a shower like this; being reminded of that video with Cas standing so close to him was embarrassing enough. “And you can sit here and, _wow_ , you can actually connect your music to this thing?” Dean stepped in and looked at the tiny display on one of the walls. “This is already a _great_ case.”

He turned around to see Cas in his shirt, smiling at Dean. “What?” he asked, a bit nervous.

“Nothing,” Cas began. “I just think it’s good you get to have something like this. You earned it.” Dean huffed, trying to read Cas’ face but failing.

“Right. Well, you got it too, y’know,” he said and stepped out of the shower. “C’mon.” He felt a bit odd, putting his bag on the same bed as Castiel’s. They’d wordlessly agreed for Dean to sleep on the left side of the bed, and Dean rummaged through his bag for some fresh clothes. Castiel seemed to sense the tension and cleared his throat.

“I’ll…get downstairs and try and see if there’s a place we can get food in the folder.”

“Yeah, okay.” Dean nodded. “I’ll be down in a bit.”

As Cas left, Dean changed into a clean shirt and jeans. His limbs ached and he was thinking about that steam shower. How good would it be to just…sit in there, relax? Of course they were here to kill some kind of monster they had no information about yet, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy all this stuff now that he had the opportunity, right? He put the bag on the floor next to his side of the bed and looked at Cas’ side. Dean sat down and tested the pillows. Not too hard, not too soft, perfect. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the sound of rain that tapped on the balcony door. The air was cool and fresh, smelling like the pines from the forest. It was all so comfortable… He had to get back up, to Cas, and help find some food. But his legs just didn’t want to yet.

When Dean opened his eyes, it was fully dark outside. He needed a second to realize where he was. _Shit_ , he’d fallen asleep. His legs were still sore when he got up, but he hurried downstairs. He hadn’t expected to see Cas standing in the kitchen, the most delicious smell of pasta sauce filling the room.

“Hey.” Dean said, still slightly disoriented but more so surprised to see Cas cooking. Castiel turned around. His cheeks had a healthy rosy tint from standing in the heat of the kitchen.

“I hope you slept well, Dean.” Castiel smiled. “Sit down, you are just in time.”

“You cook?” Dean blinked. “When did you…”

“Losing my grace doesn’t mean losing my memories.” Castiel pointed out as he drained the pasta. “I watched a lot of people do it, so…”

“Damn.” Dean huffed. “And you never told us?”

“When? We never have time.” Cas got one plate and filled it. “Here.” He put it down in front of Dean and sat down. “I noticed you were asleep so I decided to go to the supermarket and buy some ingredients. I also got you coffee for tomorrow morning.”

Dean just looked at him, but didn’t answer.

“Oh, eh—thank you.” He nodded at Cas. “Don’t you need some?” He held up his fork. “C’mon buddy, you needda eat.”

“Like I said…”

“Dude, it’s weird if you just sit here and watch me eat, alright? Grab some.”

Cas sighed and obeyed. Dean took a bite. He didn’t care at all if Cas just sat and looked at him, but he knew this was the only way to get Cas to eat for himself—by not making it about him.

Cas sat down with him, his plate less full than Dean’s, but at least he started to eat. Dean watched with approval as he ate himself. “This is awesome.” He said with his mouth full. “I’mma make you cook every day back in the Bunker.”

“I’m glad you enjoy it,” Cas said, smiling himself. It’s something Dean had noticed, too. Cas smiled more, as if he couldn’t contain it now he didn’t have his grace. It all felt more human, and part of Dean liked it. Part of Dean also hated that Cas seemed so weak. He watched him eat silently and Cas watched him. They didn’t say much, just enjoyed their food. Cas seemed hungry after all, eating just as fast as Dean.

Once they were finished, Dean got their plates and washed them. Cas wanted to help but Dean told him to relax, and as Cas went upstairs to get changed, Dean couldn’t help but feel comfortable. It almost felt as if they _were_ … He looked at the living room, the kitchen, everything made for a couple to enjoy. Thus far, they hadn’t been too bad at pretending that they were one. Maybe it was just him, thinking that because he wanted to. He remembered Cas’ hand on his shoulder when he’d been in the kitchen. It had lingered, stayed there longer than necessary. In fact, Cas hadn’t even needed to put his hand on Dean’s shoulder, but he had. Had that been...? Seriously, was he now analyzing Cas putting his hand on his shoulder? He’d never been good with personal space in any way, Dean shouldn’t be surprised that he’d been that close to him at all.

He finished up the dishes and lingered in the living room, not wanting to disturb Cas upstairs. He sat down on the couch and grabbed the files they’d brought, trying to focus on the case. Despite his nap, he was still tired and couldn’t focus well. Tomorrow, they’d be able to investigate further, but tonight they’d have time for themselves. Dean flipped through the folder and grabbed the ticket for him and Cas. _Mr. and Mr. Winchester,_ it said. He smiled. It didn’t even look too bad. Cas walked back inside, wearing one of the shirts the three of them had bought when Cas had started to need them. He probably didn’t know how good it looked on him, but Dean sure had noticed.

“There you are, looking all fresh,” he said, and nodded to the couch. “Sit down.” He grabbed the remote from the table and turned on the TV. “How about we start tomorrow and watch some random movie that’s on TV tonight. We can’t do much now anyways. Agreed?”

“Agreed.” Cas said, and curled his legs under his body, trying to find a comfortable position. Dean tried not to focus on the bee socks and turned on the TV. He changed channels until he found a movie. Dean talked about the actors. Cas seemed genuinely interested, despite the movie not being that spectacular. Dean had seen it once, so he should’ve remembered there was a dramatic romantic scene coming up. But he hadn’t been prepared for the sappy music and the jumping-into-each-other’s-arms. Dean looked at Cas slightly nervous to see his reaction but Cas didn’t seem bothered by it at all, which kind of calmed Dean down as well. When the credits rolled, Dean told Cas they should head upstairs—Dean had been keeping a close eye on him and saw Cas almost fall asleep twice during the movie.

With Cas in bed, Dean stood in the bathroom silently telling his reflection to calm down and get over it. Back in the bedroom, he took off his shirt and pants in the dark, quietly slipping in bed next to Cas. He heard his breath, deep and heavy, felt his own heartbeat racing twice as fast. He took a few deep breaths to calm down, staring up at the ceiling. Normally he lay on his side, but he didn’t want to stare at Cas constantly.

“Well, night, buddy.” Dean muttered.

“Good night, Dean.”

Dean smiled in the dark and shifted, pulling the sheets up and closing his eyes. If he hadn’t been so tired, he would’ve been awake for many more hours but, luckily, his eyelids were heavy and the slow; Cas’ steady breathing was a calming rhythm to get him to sleep.

When he woke up the next day, Cas was still asleep. It was already light out and the rainy weather had completely gone; now, the sun shone bright and peeked through the curtains. Dean carefully looked at Cas, his head almost completely gone under the sheets. Cas seemed to sleep peacefully, his hair a wild mess but his expression calm. Dean wondered what he was dreaming about now. He got up in silence, dressed, and went downstairs to make coffee. He’d let Cas sleep as long as he needed. Maybe he’d even go out himself and ask around, if Cas slept in. Dean didn’t want to wake him up.

He never told Cas, but he knew Cas didn’t always sleep that well—nightmares, probably, and Dean couldn’t blame him. Why would Cas not be haunted by painful memories, by his worry over losing his grace something Dean could only imagine, he couldn’t know how it would feel.

He sat down at the table and drank his coffee and focused on the case. First of all, they’d go to the main building and ask if they had any information on what had been happening. Dean knew how hard it could be to get people to talk about death and murder, it didn’t really give the resort a good reputation. His mind drifted back to Cas. To get his mind on track, he took his phone out of his pocket and texted Sam.

_It’s a freaking villa, man. Bed’s a miracle. We also got a steam shower. - D_

_Thanks, Dean, I needed that. How’s Cas? -S_

_Sleeping like a rock. Apparently he cooks. -D_

_Seems like I missed out on a great opportunity. Any news on the case? -S_

_Not yet. I’ll be out in a bit. How’s mom and Jack? -D_

_Fine. Mom’s teaching Jack to make pancakes. Got mad at me when she found out he couldn’t. -S_

_Good, when we get back Jack and Cas can cook together. -D_

At that moment, footsteps sounded and Cas walked into the kitchen. He had obviously just woken up, his hair messy and only wearing his shirt. Dean tried not to look.

“Mornin’, there’s coffee.”

“Thank you.” Cas sat down. They drank their coffee in silence.

“Right,” Dean said once they were done. “We’ll ask the lady in the main building for some info. If we can’t get it, we’ll ask the people staying here.”

“Do you think they’ll talk?” Castiel rubbed his eyes.

“We’ll make them,” Dean promised. “I mean, in a good way,” he added when he saw Cas’ frown. “You got a lot to learn, Cas. Listen, girls like gay couples, especially when they’re as good-looking as we are. Now come on and get dressed.”

The weather had totally changed since yesterday. It was warm and sunny, couples walking around, some with a dog, some holding hands, some just talking. They all seemed to go to either the pool, the spa, the golf course, or whatever other activities there were. But Dean and Cas went the other way, back to the main building. It was a ten minute walk in which they tried to memorize the houses. When they saw the building, Dean grabbed Cas’ hand.

“What are you—?”

“We’re a thing, remember?” Dean avoided Cas’ eyes. “We’re more believable if we’re like…sappy about it.”

“Right.”

It was quiet inside, besides the soft buzzing of the air conditioning. Dean pushed the bell on the counter and they waited until a woman in her forties appeared, with long blond hair and a friendly smile.

“Good morning,” she said, “how can I help you?”

“Hey, yeah…” Dean slowly let go of Cas’ hand and leaned against the counter. “We were just—we read a few things about this place and well, the things that happened.” The woman went pale instantly. “It’s not that we wanna leave,” Dean said quickly. “We were just wondering what exactly happened. With all those wild stories around, y’know how it goes… You don’t know what to believe anymore.”

The woman looked at them suspiciously.

“That’s kind of private, I think you’ll understand.”

Dean nodded, but Cas spoke before he could.

“Listen, Helen.” Dean saw Cas eyes flick to her name tag. “I understand that this is a very sensitive subject, but see, my boyfriend here has been having horrible nightmares…” Dean’s cheeks were on fire, but Cas didn’t look at him. “And I’d be so happy if he could enjoy his stay here. So I thought, what if we go up and ask for a bit of information? It obviously has nothing to do with the resort, but he just has to hear that from someone else. And besides that, we could calm the other people down if we happen to hear them talk about it.”

Maybe it was his deep voice, or the soothing way he used it, or how he smiled at Helen, or the fact Dean’s nervous behavior seemed very real, but Helen nodded slowly.

“Of course,” she said and looked around. “There isn’t much to say, actually. I’m sure you’ve heard there’s been three deaths so far, people say we’re crazy for not locking down, but… We have nothing to do with it, as you said. The first was a couple. One killed the other and then took their own life. The other guy was also killed by his girlfriend, but she has no idea why she did it. The poor girl is totally lost, she remembers what she did but she doesn’t know why. They’ve been coming here for years, I know her well. She wouldn’t hurt a fly, and now… They’re still trying to figure out what happened, so that’s about everything I can tell you.”

“Thank you.” Castiel nodded and shared a quick look with Dean. “Will that be okay?”

“Eh—yeah, of course.” Dean smiled at the woman. “Thank you so much, I understand you don’t like talking about it.”

“It’s all right.” She said. “If you happen to hear some people talk… I’d appreciate if you could keep that down.”

“We will,” Cas promised. “Thank you again. Come on, honey.” He put his hand on the lower part of Dean’s back and walked him to the door.

When they were out of sight, Dean turned around.

“Me, nightmares? What the hell, Cas?”

“It worked. And you said she liked gay couples.”

“So you added that part in about the—the boyfriend thing.”

“Yes.”

“Right.” Dean sighed and chewed his lip. He missed Cas’ hand on his back, but he also didn’t want to think about it. “Well, at least we now know the first two were a couple, that helps. Besides, that second girl kinda sounded possessed, didn’t she?”

Castiel nodded, looking around the resort.

“Do you think the other girl was possessed too?”

“Could be.” Dean shrugged. “You wanna go get some food for lunch? I’m starving.” As usual, Cas agreed and followed Dean into a nearby cafe.

Just when they finished lunch, Sam called. Dean put the phone on speaker so they could both listen.

“So get this, I went on the website of the resort—if a house has already been rented, it just says ‘Rented until…’, but there’s two houses that say ‘Out of use’, so I figure that’ll probably be the houses the victims stayed in.” Sam was typing something in the background. “They’re called Mermaid Cove and Otter’s Stone, apparently.” Sam scoffed. “Anyways, I thought maybe you could take a look and see if there’s anything special.”

“We’ll check them out,” Dean promised. He’d seen the Mermaid Cove house on their way, so he started walking and Cas followed. They quickly updated him on the information Helen had given them, though they kept out how they got it.

“So, the girl doesn’t know why she did it?” Sam asked, “but she remembers doing it?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty weird, man. We were thinking demons, but it wouldn’t add up.”

“Wait… Let me—Jack, will you…” They heard Jack in the background. Dean saw Cas smile fondly and he couldn’t help but smile himself.

“Hello,” Jack said a moment later.

“Hello, Jack,” Cas said, smiling again. “Have you found anything?”

“Sam just ran to the bookshelves,” Jack answered. “I think he knows something.”

They waited until they heard Sam return.

“A philophagus, that’s it, I knew I read it somewhere.” Sam flipped pages. “Literally a love eater—it feeds on love, like a psychophagus feeds on souls. It barely mentions more… Just that the victim might feel confused after they’re drained, and that symptoms are similar to possession.”

“Sounds like that could be our thing.” Dean said, eyeing Cas. “Could you look into that, find more?”

“On it.”

“I’ll help.” They could hear Jack’s excitement. “We’ll keep you updated.”

“Thank you, Jack. You too, Sam,” Cas said and they hung up. They reached the house that looked just like Dolphin’s Creek, but featured a little sign reading ‘Mermaid Cove’. They stopped on the path. From here, the house didn’t appear to be any different, but the inside might still contain evidence or clues.

“Well, we can’t really scope it out until after sundown once people start going to bed,” Dean said. “What do you wanna do until then?”

Cas looked thoughtful. “We could try kayaking? I think I saw a brochure for that.”

“Uh,” Dean hesitated. “Too much work.” He raised his hands. “But we could try sailing? Get on a boat…but let someone else do the driving.”

Cas smiled indulgently. “You’re incorrigible.”

“You know it, Sugar Plum.”

They kept heading down the path and follow the signs for the marina. Cas insisted on buying bottles of sunscreen and water for their trip, and Dean didn’t fight back. The crew looked a bit skeptical at their attire of jeans and boots but they didn’t say anything. After purchasing their tickets and waiting on the deck, just watching the beach, they were ready to depart. There was another couple who sat in the front and took lots of photos together. Dean was content to hang out in the middle—it seemed safer—and to hold Cas’ hand. Their thighs remained pressed together but he thought the hand holding made them look more couple-y. He didn’t want anyone to get suspicious, of course, and told himself it would be a good plan to just generally hold Cas’ hand for no reason. No reason at all.

He wouldn’t admit to anyone that the best part of the little cruise was being served a beer while Cas got to see some dolphins swimming nearby. The way Cas had lit up upon seeing them made Dean’s heart flutter. That time, he was the one snapping a picture. Cas turning around to Dean with a smile tugging at his lips, Cas looking at the water as a group of dolphins was visible just below the surface, Cas letting his fingers run through the water, Cas reaching out to get Dean to do the same.

When they got back to shore, the sun was quickly preparing to disappear. Dean was surprised before he remembered how late Cas had slept in that morning, and then he decided that he didn’t care. So, he tugged Cas by the hand toward a restaurant just off the marina that boasted excellent seafood. They shared a lobster tail and drank whatever red wine the waitress recommended to go with it, but it tasted good and Dean refused to admit how nice it was to see Cas smiling in the candlelight.

They walked back across the shore, Dean had kicked off his shoes and told Cas to do the same, and they walked along the beach, their toes digging in the cool sand. The wind cooled Dean’s rosy cheeks and ruffled Cas’ hair. Dean felt warm and could spend hours walking here, but Cas was there to remember that they needed to go back to the victim’s house now that night had fallen. Dean followed him silently. As they reached the path Dean spent a while wiping sand off his feet before getting his shoes back on. It felt restraining after the cooling sand, but Cas was right. They found their way to Mermaid’s Cove, scoping out their surroundings until it was time to get the door open. Then, Cas stood watch while Dean fumbled with the lock and slipped in the house. He had hoped that no one had cleaned out the houses yet, but they were too late. From the police reports, the living room had been covered in blood, but there wasn’t a speck to be seen. Someone had been careful.

Dean thought that they might get lucky and find something left behind, but it seemed like any other place ready to be hired. He didn’t notice any hex bags or strange odors either, aside from the chlorine and some flower-scented room spray.

He went back out and onto the porch, shaking his head at Cas’ questioning look. There was nothing useful for them here. Dean led Cas back to Dolphin’s Creek in silence.

“Home sweet home.” Dean kicked off his shoes and strode directly to the stairs. “I’m gonna take a shower, I smell like the ocean.”

Cas put down the sunscreen on the table and Dean saw him stretch. “Okay, Dean.”

Upstairs, Dean stripped and showered with efficiency, nearly forgetting about the steam features in his desire to be clean. After he scrubbed off the salt and grime, lathering his hair with too much expensive shampoo, he sat down on the bench and let the steam work its magic. Out of order, he knew, but who cared? Luxury was luxury, after all. He looked at the screen on the wall and found that it also used radio stations. Triumphantly, he selected the classic rock channel and sat back with a groan. His muscles rejoiced at the relaxation. He sat through three songs before the steam and the heat started to get a bit stifling; his muscles felt the best they probably could, so he got out. He dried off and wrapped his towel around himself tightly, suddenly aware that he needed to get his underwear from the bedroom and that Cas might be in there.

He carefully opened the door and saw Cas sitting casually on the bed, a book in his lap. Dean observed the calm scene for a while, then stepped into the cold of the bedroom.

“I’ll trade with you so you can change,” Cas said, setting the book aside when he noticed Dean. “I was worried you had fallen asleep in there.”

“Ha ha,” Dean said, stepping aside so Cas could walk past him. “You bet your ass I’mma use that steam shower while I can.” He saw Cas rolling his eyes as he got into the bathroom. When the door clicked shut, Dean quickly grabbed his clothes and changed. He hung the towel up on the closet door before he climbed into bed, grabbed his phone and swiped through the pictures he took of Cas that afternoon. The last one of Cas grabbing his hand was blurry, but he didn’t delete it.

Cas emerged slowly, satisfied that Dean was finished changing before joining him in bed. He smelled of cinnamon and toothpaste, the hair around his face damp.

“We should still check the other residence, Otter’s Stone,” he remarked, thumbing his book open again and stifling a yawn. Dean nearly smacked himself in the face and groaned. How could he have forgotten about the other one? “It’s okay,” Cas continued. “We can always go tomorrow.”

“Yeah, okay,” Dean grumbled. He wasn’t satisfied. He’d nearly forgotten about the first house, and completely forgot the second. No doubt that one was already scrubbed as well. He let his stupid little fantasy of enjoying a couple’s retreat with Cas get in the way of his damn job, and guilt washed over him. People had died and the other people were probably in danger, and all he’d done was take a boat ride and drink expensive wine he couldn’t pronounce. He put away his phone and shifted, his back to Cas. He tried to sleep, but his thoughts were haunting. From behind him, he could hear Cas flipping a few pages before closing his book with a soft thud. Dean tried to relax. He couldn’t do anything about it now. He cringed at the thought of himself, being so reluctant to go back to work. He’d been so selfish. Suddenly, Cas’ hand was on his bare shoulder and he stiffened.

“Dean.” Cas said softly. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Hmpf.” Cas’ hand squeezed his shoulder a little, his thumb rubbing over the knot in his muscle. Maybe it was the little bit of grace he had left that made him find the source of the pain so fast. Dean let him, trying not to make any sounds.

“Relax.” Cas said, fingers gliding over Dean’s back, following a pattern Dean couldn’t follow, maybe looking for more muscles to loosen. Despite his shower, his back still ached and Cas could feel it. They didn’t speak, but Cas’ hand didn’t stop, and at last, Dean drifted off with Cas’ hand drawing invisible sigils on his skin.

It was still dark when Dean woke up but he felt something was wrong. The bed was too big, too empty. Cas wasn’t there. He sat up, the sheets slipping off of his body. The cold air on his bare chest woke him up quickly. Though it was dark, he could see vague silhouettes, and he realized the curtains in front of the balcony had been pushed aside. He got up and walked barefoot to the balcony door. There stood Cas, wearing nothing but underwear, looking out over at the forest.

“Buddy.”

Cas didn’t move or stir. He kept staring.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

Dean walked over and stood with him, elbows on the balcony.

“I ain’t the one with nightmares, am I?” he asked, looking up at the dark sky. There weren’t any clouds so the stars were scattered all above them. Dean wondered if Cas knew how they looked up close.

“I can’t stop it. The…the feeling, the pain.” Cas sighed. Dean couldn’t see his expression in the dark, but his voice was tight. “I just—I don’t know what to do. Every single time I fall asleep, there’s screaming again, my brothers and sisters begging me to—to help them, but I never do. Whatever I try, I can’t save them. I see them die and it’s my fault. It…seems so real.”

“I know.” Dean looked at Cas. “But that’s normal, man, I promise. This is like a trauma. You went through something pretty messed up shit. And you just continue, you’re as open as a rock about it when you’re awake—so at night, all that cooped up pain has to get out.”

“Right,” Cas said, grimacing. “And how do you deal with that?”

The corner of Dean’s lips twitched. “You don’t, buddy boy.”

Dean could swear he saw Cas smile.

“Will they leave, Dean?”

“Yeah,” Dean promised. “Trust me, they will. If you ain’t gonna get your grace back… You’ll get used to this whole human thing, promise.”

Cas didn’t reply but softly bumped his arm against Dean’s, maybe accidentally, maybe on purpose. Either way, Dean smiled and softly bumped back. Their arms stayed like that as they looked up at the stars, not saying anything for a while. Hours seemed to pass, until Dean noticed Cas was shivering.

“Come back inside,” Dean said when he noticed he himself was shaking as well. “It’s too cold to stay here.” “I’m fine.” “No, you’re not.” “Why don’t you _ever_ believe me when I say that?” Cas snapped, glaring at him. “Because it’s kinda what we do, Cas. Lying. Pretending. Not talking about how we feel.” Dean took a step toward the open balcony door. “I’m not gonna go back inside without you and my dick’s about to freeze off. So please.”

Cas’ eyebrows knitted.

“Dean, I don’t think that’s the correct phrase. It’s anatomically impossible for your…”

“It’s three AM, dammit, Einstein. _Please_.” Dean rubbed his eyes and Cas reluctantly followed inside.

The next time he woke up, Dean found himself in Cas’ arms. He didn’t remember how they’d managed to get in this position, but it seemed like both had tried to hold onto each other while sleeping. Cas’ hand was on Dean’s arm, Dean pressed against Cas’ side with his arm spread over Castiel’s chest. His head was on Cas’ shoulder, little curls of hair tickling his cheek. He didn’t mind and wondered for how long he could stay like this before he had to move.

At that moment, Cas opened his eyes and looked at him. They were only inches apart and Dean was about to say something, but then Cas smiled softly and Dean’s words disappeared. He didn’t know why but he smiled back and stayed right where he was. He didn’t say anything, Cas didn’t say anything. They just lay together, and Cas let his finger glide over Dean’s arm in slow, calming circles. Dean closed his eyes again. For some reason, both of them were okay right now; okay with this, with not saying anything. It was weirdly exciting and calming at the same time. Dean decided to enjoy it while he could, like all the luxurious utilities they had here. They lay in silence for longer than fifteen minutes, until Dean shifted to get up.

Cas’ low-pitched noise of disapproval was so honest and probably unintentional, and it almost made Dean lie back down.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m a human, and I have a bladder.”

“Right.”

When Dean got back, Cas was already getting dressed. He was about to slip on his shirt when Dean noticed two white lines on his back. He knew instantly that was from where Cas’ wings had been. He wanted to say something, but decided not to. He might later but he didn’t want to ruin the feeling of comfort that seemed to linger between them. Neither of them said anything, but they went downstairs for coffee and breakfast. They ate quickly, Cas less than Dean as usual.

“Y’know what I was thinking,” Dean said as he flipped through the flyer. “There’s this evening tonight, like a meetup of the people staying here. They seem to do it like every week. Maybe the victims came there too, since they were regulars… We could go there, mingle, ask around.”

“Sounds like the best thing we can do right now.” Castiel slid his finger over the coffee cup. “All we know is that there wasn’t anything odd in the first house.”

“Exactly. And the second house is probably the same. So, we’ll just relax for the rest of the day?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “C’mon, it’s a luxurious resort after all, we don’t come here every day. Enjoy yourself for once, Cas.”

He wasn’t sure what had changed between now and yesterday—maybe it was seeing Cas restlessness, his pain, that Dean realized they _had_ to let go, that his need to relax was natural, not wrong.

“I personally do not enjoy a crammed swimming pool or spa.” Cas pointed out.

“Then what _do_ you enjoy?” Dean asked him. He realized that he didn’t really know Castiel’s hobbies, if he even had them. They were always so busy with jobs that none of them had time for hobbies. They just managed to press in some nice things to lighten their life every once in a while, but that was about it. Cas, however, seemed to be very surprised by that question. He thought for a while, his eyes on Dean for so long that Dean got uncomfortable.

“Spending time with you and Sam, and Jack and Mary. I enjoy…seeing you all happy.”

Dean chuckled, not just to take away the attention on how red his ears were getting.

“I should’ve known you’d say something like that. But what about _you_ , alone? Without us?”

“I love nature, I think. Appreciating what my father made. Helping people. And I enjoy watching movies with you.”

Dean pointed his finger at him.

“Now you’re talking about me again, Sweet Cakes. You lose.”

“Why do I have to mention things that I enjoy alone? You’re here, too.” Then his face changed as if he realized something. “Or you…you want to spend some time alone, which I understand, I’m—”

“No, Cas, that ain’t it at all. I just wondered what hobbies you have for yourself, y’know, because you’ll get tired of me eventually,” he half-joked, but he was glad to see Cas’ face return to a less tense expression.

“I would never get tired of you, Dean.” Castiel took Dean’s coffee cup and went to the kitchen to refill it. “I mean, you have a very inappropriate timing of humor, let’s not even mention your sense of it. The nicknames you give me are ridiculous. You snore and you drink more coffee than is good for you.” He waved his free hand as to amplify his words. “You spend three hours showering, you won’t shut up about western movies, and you’re too possessive over your car. But despite all of that? I would _never_ get tired of you.” Cas put the mug back down in front of Dean, as if to prove himself. But with the way Cas looked at Dean, no proof was needed. Dean had no idea what to say back to that, so he took a (too big) sip of coffee and felt it burn in his throat.

“Well, if that’s the case.” He gave Cas one of his mischievous lopsided smiles. “We can have fun all day long.”

That day might have been the best Dean had had in weeks, maybe even months. They walked around the park and, as Cas looked at trees and birds and told Dean about their origin, Dean just quietly observed his friend. Cas seemed to get more human every day. He wondered if that was just because Dean got used to the change of clothing, the deeper scruff, the slightly more emotional way Cas talked and expressed himself, how he smiled and laughed more. He’d always been contemplative, and he seemed to still think about things quite a lot, but he had gotten more expressive.

They ended up at the main hub including a few shops and they walked around, mostly making fun of the weird things you could get. Dean quickly maneuvered the two of them past the sex toys by pretending to be very interested in the souvenirs. They ended up buying a few things for Sam, Jack, and Mary, and some more coffee. Afterward, they went to the restaurant for lunch. For a while, they’d forgotten why they were here, and also that they were pretending to be a couple. Until the waiter gave them a table for two and offered the ‘duet lunch’, which they kindly rejected. They ended up choosing the same burger, and Dean felt very uncomfortable when the waiter smiled so sappily at him, touched his shoulder more than needed and winked at him before he left.

“I think he might like you, Dean.” Cas said as soon as the guy had walked away.

“What? No.” Dean shook his head. “He’s like, fifteen years younger than me. Besides, I’m with you.” He swallowed. “I mean—that’s what he should be thinking.”

“Doesn’t mean he couldn’t be into you.” Cas pointed out and leaned back in his chair, trying to pop his neck.

“You sure you don’t want one of those massages?” Dean suggested, changing the subject. “They’ll get you all loosened up.” Cas just shook his head. Before Dean could insist, the waiter returned with their drinks. He gave Dean another shy smile, blushed when he almost knocked Cas’ drink over, and hurried away.

“Great.” Dean groaned as his eyes followed the guy getting back into the kitchen. “That’s exactly what we needed. A horny teenager.”

When their food arrived ten minutes later, Dean’s hand was “accidentally” lying on Cas’, and he slowly took it away as the waiter put down their food, taking way too long and brushing his finger over Cas’ knuckles as he did. For a second, he wished he could do that more, but then he had to focus on the waiter who was fiddling with his notepad.

“Thank you,” Dean said with emphasis.

“Oh, of course, sorry, sir. Enjoy your meals.” He almost ran away.

“It looks friggin’ delicious,” Dean admitted. He had hoped to see a hint of jealousy on Cas’ face, even just to pretend, but Cas seemed to have ignored the guy completely. They enjoyed their food and Dean quickly forgot about the waiter, focused more on Cas and the food. They laughed some more, wondered what they would do next, and Dean was hoping this day would never end. They took their time eating lunch, but they still had plenty of hours to spend as they stepped outside. The waiter had blushed when Dean had given him a tip, and Dean saw him flipping through the dollars, possibly trying to find a phone number. After that, Dean had demonstratively wrapped his arm around Cas’ waist and pulled him closer. It was the closest they’d been after how they’d woken up, and Dean inhaled the sweet scent of Cas’ shampoo a bit longer than necessary. The guy had stared at them, blushing more than before, and darted off with the tip still in his hands.

They walked past the pool, where people were swimming or splashing each other with water and having a good time. Dean felt weird looking at them; he didn’t know why, but as he continued to look around, the people inside all seemed so distant from him.

“What is it?” Cas’ hand on his arm was strong but calming.

“Just…y’know, this whole thing, I guess,” he said, but didn’t shrug off Cas’ hand. “Everyone’s so happy, as if the whole world is perfect and has no pain in it. Yet, people died here, Cas.” He shook his head slowly. “I even felt like everything was fine, but I realized that it’s not, and I feel gross. Guilty.” He let it all spill out; even though he’d felt better this morning, last night’s thoughts weren’t gone completely.

“Let’s go outside.” Cas put his arm through Dean’s and took him along, back through the park. “It is not your fault that those people died, Dean. We’re here to stop it, remember? But like you said, that doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy ourselves while there is nothing else for us to do. You’re not a bad person. This place is an escape, and though not everyone _should_ have the liberty to take one… I think a lot of people do _need_ one. You included.”

Dean felt like the fresh air had cleared his head a bit—or maybe it was Cas’ words and the arm linked in his.

“Roger that.” He gave Cas a lopsided grin. “Plus, we got a plan. Tonight, we’ll figure it all out.” He wasn’t even worried about holding Cas close anymore, it seemed so normal in this place. Maybe it was.

They spent the rest of the day at a small petting zoo they found at the side of the park. It wasn’t big, but Cas got excited to see a few deer and sat with the ducks for a good few minutes. Dean loved to see Cas light up around the animals. He liked the little things, but seeing Cas holding them, letting the donkey sniffle at his hand, he seemed totally at peace. It made Dean happy to see him like that. Finally, they had found something that Cas enjoyed without him, or Sam, and Dean was glad—until Cas pulled him along because he wanted Dean to hold the guinea pigs.

After Cas had petted the last rabbit for a seventh time, they wandered further around the park. They didn’t have enough time for golfing, though Dean talked about the sport on their way back. Until Cas started to ask complicated mathematical questions about the distances and Dean decided to talk about the fawn that had chewed off part of his flannel.

As they walked, Dean’s phone buzzed in his pocket.

“Hey, Sammy.”

“Hi, Dean, how’s it going?” he replied.

“Not too bad. Hey, you’re on speaker now.” Dean held the phone between himself and Cas and guided them just to the side of the path. “Anything come up?”

“Yeah, actually. Oh, say hi, Jack.”

“Hello!” They heard Jack’s chipper voice. Cas smiled at the phone.

“Hello, Jack.”

“Alright,” Dean said gruffly, trying to focus. “What’s up?”

“So according to the lore, a philophagus accepts offerings, kind of like a box for a crossroad demon. It could be a box or a bag, containing rose petals, a bird’s feather, an unchipped shell, your desire written on a leaf, and sand. There are some notes here about where precisely the sand comes from, it’s gotta be a larger body of water and not a river—they’re too transient and unpredictable, I guess. Also, Aphrodite being born in the sea and all that.”

“Right, okay,” Dean said, mind spinning.

“Yeah, so once someone has those items they can contact the philophagus. It sounds more like you get possessed right away though, he isn’t really the type to come over for tea and discuss your options. Once you tell it or it figures out what you want, you pretty much lose control.”

“Sounds awesome.”

“Yep. Past victims all say the same, they remember what happened but not _why_ they did it. Some even have memory gaps for up to a day in some of these older cases.” Dean heard papers ruffling on the other end of the phone. “What’s most interesting is how to kill it, of course—let me…”

“Here.” Jack interrupted and some shuffling sounded. Then Jack read: “as the philophagus feeds on love, it’s biggest satisfaction is love _given_ with love. It is what he desires, that for which it will return after the ten years of the deal passed (see page 4 on the similarities between philophagi and demons). If it is not satisfied with the offering that is given, he will return in a few weeks, hungry for love. If it does not _get_ love, it will take it.”

Dean and Cas were quiet for a while, their pace had slowed while they listened to Jack.

“That sounds understandable, Jack. Thank you, and you too, Sam,” Cas said eventually. “We are going to talk to some of the other vacationers tonight. Apparently at least one of the couples who were victimized were regulars here, so we are hoping to uncover more information. If you find any other resources on how to locate this monster, let us know.”

“Of course, father,” Jack brought in eagerly.

“Okay there kid, you did good, now don’t get too eager.” Dean said, feeling Cas’ glare. “See ya, Sammy,” Dean said and snapped his phone shut.

Feeling focused on their mission, they entered the hall and were guided to the left, the room next to the spa, which featured a beautifully decorated bar. There were already several couples sitting together, groups of people who had probably known each other for years. Dean’s hand automatically slid to Cas’ back. He didn’t know why, or why Cas leaned into it, or why Cas gave him a genuine, encouraging smile as they walked in. But it was perfect. They introduced themselves to the people there, who were nothing but friendly and willing to introduce them to others. No one made a comment on them being gay—not publicly anyway. It made sense in a romantic place like this but Dean still wasn’t used to it. He wasn’t out, had never experienced it personally, but the hate he’d seen on TV and in bars late at night was far from this.

The closest he’d been to it was that one night he helped a guy escape a group of drunk students ready to beat the hell out of him outside a club back in Kansas. All Dean had on him was a gun—carrying both a knife and a gun had seemed so over the top a few hours ago, but now… He’d only had a few moments to decide, and though he’d rather avoided pulling a gun at a bunch of teens, Dean had had to do _something_. The gun had startled the group— he’d told all the students to fuck off, making sure all the teens were gone before he turned around. He remembered the terrified look on the young guy’s face, tears streaming down his cheeks. He seemed to have been scared of Dean too.

“It’s okay,” Dean had said as he’d knelt with him, had wiped the tears and fixed his shirt. “You hurt?” The guy had shaken his head, but there was blood on his cheek. Dean had patted it away with his sleeve as the young guy stared at him nervously, still panting. Dean had offered him a ride home, but the guy was hesitant, uneasily looking at Dean’s gun. Dean demonstratively took out the bullets, handed the guy the empty gun and told him to relax. “If I get too scary, you can hit me on the head with that.” He’d told him as he held out a hand to get him up. The guy had smiled, a vague, nervous smile, and had accepted Dean’s offer. He’d started talking in the car, how he couldn’t be out, how hard his life had been after he realized he was gay. That it was messed up, how he’d always be yelled at for something he never chose, for something he didn’t want to be ashamed of. In that moment, Dean had seen himself reflected in the guy’s trembling voice, his shaking hands, the small particles of glitter on his eyelids, his tears, dried blood and dirt smudged on his face.

Dean had realized that he didn’t want to, he _couldn’t afford to_ be this scared and nervous, not in his job. He couldn’t deal with this fear on top of everything else, and he’d pushed it away ever since. He’d made sure the guy was safe at home, had walked up to the front door with him, and even accepted a hug. He’d still smelled like roses when he came back to the motel that night, and Sam had raised his eyebrows as he plucked glitter off Dean’s shirt. But Dean’s pain had probably been in his eyes, because Sam didn’t ask. As Dean had been washing the blood out of his shirt in the sink that night, he’d stared at his plagued face in the mirror and had scrubbed mindlessly until his hands were sore. Their toxic society had, not for the first time, messed with his brain, told him it was wrong and disgusting. The lesson stuck with him.

Then, on a September night ten years ago, Cas had come stumbling through that wall around his heart like no one else could ever have. He’d shown Dean that it wasn’t about everyone else, but about _them,_ what Dean felt for _him_ , not for others. It wasn’t about his masculinity, his sexuality, it wasn’t about whether their love was right or wrong; it was about sharing coffee in the morning, waking up together. It was about going to a petting zoo and Cas’ happy chuckles as the rabbits sniffled at his cheek, the way his eyes changed color in the sun, the smile that he only ever gave Dean. It was about love, not about hate, and here, Dean’s brain was starting to adjust. He felt free, with enough space to take off his ladies’ man tough-guy mask and relax the muscles in his tensed up shoulders, hear it pop, let the walls down. Here, the people still saw him as _him_ , and it didn’t seem to matter if he wore the mask or not—they smiled at him either way.

“So, how’d you meet?” a woman asked, handing them both a beer.

“Oh, we—” Dean hesitated and gave Cas a quick glance, whose eyes said _I’ll go with whatever you say_. “We met a few years ago. I was feeling like hell, and he uh—he dragged me out.” Cas’ smile was soft and genuine and Dean smiled back.

The woman nodded enthusiastically, sipping her drink. “Were you together right away? Tell me everything; new couples don’t often come here.”

“Sparks flew right away,” Dean said as he saw Cas hide his smile in his drink. “But we didn’t act on it immediately. I guess I was still figuring out, y’know, myself, and I wasn’t sure if Cas…”

“Was into you,” the woman helped. Dean nodded.

“When I found out he did, huh, I was the happiest man alive.” He gave her a smile. “Couldn’t have been luckier.”

“It wasn’t just…him, though.” Cas said. Dean tried to not act surprised. “I, too, was dealing with things. I’d always felt I wasn’t good enough…but being friends with Dean made me realize that having issues doesn’t equal being weak. And that helped me, too.”

“Oh, that’s beautiful,” the woman said, her face drawn with emotion. “I’m just—I’m sorry, I just love hearing about other people’s love stories.” She sniffled. “Anyway, I’m really happy you’ve found this place. You seem to be wonderful people.” Dean suddenly remembered what they were here for—their case—and he softly nudged Cas’ leg under the table.

“How about you two?” Dean asked her, nodding at her partner.

She didn’t seem to mind talking and as Dean and Cas sat and listened. Dean tried to focus, but the light was hitting Cas’ face just right and he couldn’t stop sneaking glances at him. He nodded and smiled so encouragingly at the woman that Dean’s knees felt weak.

They spoke to several people, all while holding each other close, making up stories about how they met and sharing loving smiles Dean could feel long after they were gone. His hand on Cas’ shoulder or on his back, Cas’ fingers playing with Dean’s—seemingly innocent things for couples, overwhelming for Dean. They ended up talking about the deaths with a woman who’d known both couples, saying they were the most loving people she’d ever met and that she couldn’t believe this had happened to them.

“We’re so sorry for your loss.” Cas reached and squeezed her hand as she wiped at her eyes.

“It’s all right. We should focus on the positive side of things…” She took a moment to gather herself, sipped her drink as her husband rubbed her back. “Do either of you sing?” She asked, looking from Dean to Cas and back. They both frowned until she pointed at the other side of the bar. “We always have some karaoke going on. It’s tradition to…sing “your” song, to bond with each other.”

“Dean sings.” Cas said. Dean glared at him.

“I don’t.” He nudged his arm and Cas raised his eyebrows.

“You just don’t sing in public—but you should, you have a beautiful voice.”

Dean felt his ears turn red, then his cheeks.

“I—I don’t—”

“For me?” Cas asked, tilting his head, knitting his eyebrows and brushed a hair behind Dean’s ear. “It’s been a while.” Dean licked his dry lips, swallowed, and checked the woman’s reaction. She just smiled at him encouragingly.

“Right, okay, sure.” He sighed and downed his beer, the place where Cas’ fingers had just been tingling. He tried to read Cas’ face, but he was just looking at him with his light frown. “I’m too sober for this, but I can’t resist that look.” Dean got up and wanted to walk off, then stopped in his tracks, reached down, and kissed Cas’ hair. It was soft and tickled his scuff, smelling like Cas and the wood in their villa. It also smelled a little bit like straw. Cas looked up at him, a bit startled, but Dean pretended like he didn’t notice. It was payback for him having to sing in front of these people.

He somehow managed to get up on the small stage without tripping. He’d already decided what song he was going to sing. By the time he reached the microphone, he’d pulled himself together a bit. With his usual charming smile, he greeted everyone.

“I was forced onto this stage by my devastatingly handsome boyfriend over there—” He pointed and saw Cas rolling his eyes. A few people laughed. “And I heard that it’s tradition to, y’know, sing your song, so I guess that’s what I’mma do.” Some laughter, some clapping. “Cas, this one’s for you.” He winked.

As soon as he started to sing, he stopped caring about the people listening. All that mattered was getting the point across to Cas. _Broken Halos_ seemed to be the perfect song. It had always reminded him of Cas and he’d been dying to share it with him. He just never felt a reason to—until now. And singing it in front of a group of near-strangers wasn’t as scary as the idea that Cas might not understand what he meant. His eyes were either closed or fixed on Cas as he sang. When he sang the last lines, his throat felt dry and tight, but he swallowed it away and accepted the applause and whistling with another charming grin. Cas was clapping too, with that smile Dean had been waiting for. And that was a win.

As he made his way back to their table, his knees felt weak, his hands were shaking, but Cas’ expression was worth it all.

“Like that?” he asked, flopping down on his stool.

“Yeah.” Cas smiled, and Dean thought he saw tears. “Like that.”

A waiter passed a moment later carrying small glasses of different kinds of cocktails, suggesting the two couples taste them if they wanted to try something new. Cas asked about the ingredients and flavors, then gave it to Dean.

“Strong, warm, not too bitter, a hint of sweetness. Sounds like your thing.”

Dean took it, wondering why Cas knew his preferences so well, and tasted. Cas had been right.

“You know me.” He wanted Cas to taste the last sip and brought his drink to Cas’ lips. “Bottom’s up.”

“It is quite satisfying.” Cas agreed and turned to ask the waiter what it was called. Then he got up and walked over to the bar, probably to get more of the drink.

Dean looked at Cas standing at the bar. His back was turned. Under his clothes, two thin white scars were hidden. Cas’ shoulders, heavy from carrying the world on them, stretched one of Dean’s shirt—even though Cas had insisted that Dean was way more muscular than him. Dean smiled at the thought.

As the night went on, they met a few more people, chatted, tried to find information. They mostly ended up talking about the resort and everyone’s surprised reaction that they hadn’t gone to the spa yet. Dean’s head was getting lighter after having some more of the drink he didn’t know the name of, and he let it happen. He wasn’t drunk, just a little tipsy, a little looser. He was totally okay with it. Cas didn’t drink as much. Dean thought he didn’t enjoy the rush of alcohol, or the sense of losing control. For Dean, it was the perfect complement to his lightheaded post-karaoke, post-love declaration, post-heart-and-soul-baring experience.

It was late at night when they walked back to their house. Dean was holding Cas close, arm around his waist. He was high on all the happiness around them, the positivity. He hadn’t been this overwhelmed with _good_ emotions in so long, he couldn’t let it go. He leaned into it, let his foggy mind take over, let himself be unapologetically in love with his best friend. Too tired and too happy to fight it. They said goodbye to the other couples once they reached their home; Cas closed the door and suddenly they were alone. Dean turned into Cas, still with one hand on the doorknob, his arm still on Cas’ waist, and they breathed against each other’s lips.

“Dean?”

Dean didn’t know how to answer, staring at Cas’ eyes. It was dark but he could still see the blue of them, the fan of Cas’ lashes, and his slightly parted lips. He had to kiss him.

He cupped Cas’ cheeks and leaned in. Everything seemed to fit together. Cas’ hands pulled him closer as Dean’s hands roamed, and everything else disappeared. This, _this_ , was what Dean wanted, the empty ache in his heart finally filling up with what had been missing. Cas’ lips were rough but gentle, kissing Dean breathless. Cas pulled him closer and their arms got mixed up trying to hold each other; Cas wanting this, craving just as much as Dean had been. Dean’s hand brushed over Cas’ shoulder, his chest, grabbing onto the shirt that had once belonged to him—Cas made a sound and pulled closer, kissed him again.

And then, out of nowhere, Cas pulled away. He pushed at Dean’s chest, forcing him to take a step back. He was staring at Dean, panting.

“I can’t—I can’t… No.” He choked, his eyes wide and scared. “I c-can’t do this, Dean. I’m sorry.”

Dean’s heart dropped as he stood there, still out of breath. He watched in agony as Cas pushed him aside and reached back for the door.

“Cas—”

“Don’t— _please,_ don’t follow me.” Cas didn’t look at him, just opened the door and left.

“Cas!” Dean’s voice cracked, but Cas’ only reply was the echo of the door slamming shut.

Maybe he should’ve followed, maybe he should’ve opened the door and ran after him. But Dean couldn’t summon the courage to open it and see Cas was gone. Dean stood in the empty house. It wasn’t pretty anymore. Cold, hollow, filled with silence.

“Fuck.” He managed to take off his jacket and shoes before stumbling toward the living room. His mind was still messy with whiskey and whatever else he’d drank—he couldn’t remember, but the taste of Cas still lingered on his lips. Dean didn’t understand, _Cas had kissed back, he’d pulled him closer, he’d_ … “Fuck.”

Dean stared at the things on the table. Cas loved that table, its purity.

“I’m sorry.” Dean whispered into the dark, empty room. He sank down on one of the chairs and rested his head in his hands. He’d fucked up, the thing he feared most had happened—and it hurt more than he’d ever been able to imagine. Maybe, he’d thought, maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. Maybe kissing Cas would fix everything, maybe it would be _right_. And it had been; he knew now that it was indeed the fix for that painful ache he felt whenever he looked at Cas. It had only confirmed that he was in love with Cas more than anything. And somehow, in some way, he’d fucked up.

He grabbed the empty coffee cup that was still on the table and got up. He washed it in the sink, dried it clean with trembling fingers. “I’m sorry, I never should’ve… I—” Dean closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He tried to contain himself. With an angry yell, he threw the cup against the wall. Porcelain shattered into pieces all over the kitchen floor. But he walked away, somehow making it to the couch without getting porcelain in his feet. Even if he did, he wouldn’t have noticed. He didn’t feel anything but empty, aching nothing. He knew now what he’d done was stupid, of course it had been. He never should’ve been confident like that.

When he opened his eyes, it was still dark. It took him a second to realize where he was and what had happened. _Cas_. Maybe he’d come back, maybe he was upstairs. Head pounding in protest, he almost stumbled over his own shoes in the hall and ran up the stairs.

“Cas?” He ran into the bedroom. Empty. Bathroom, empty. Dean hurried to the balcony, empty. He stared out into the dark, though he wasn’t sure what he was looking for. The wind was cold and chilled his bare arms. He shivered. Cas wasn’t there. He hadn’t come back. It hit Dean at that moment that he’d lost Cas. The last bit of hope that he’d had was gone with the icy wind making his dry lips numb.

“Son of a bitch.” He muttered to himself. He’d been standing here with Cas just last night. He’d been hurting and Dean had wanted nothing but to help him. It seemed, however, that he’d only made it worse.

And then, another thought crept into his mind. _Had_ he lost Cas? Cas would have returned by now, wouldn’t he? Dean pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was just past three in the morning. Cas had been gone for _hours_. He hadn’t been wearing his jacket, it had been comfortably warm all day. All he’d been wearing was that one shirt of Dean’s, the one he loved so much. It was much colder now than it had been when they left, though. If Cas had been outside all this time, something was wrong. Dean knew Cas was mad, but he’d _at least_ come back to their villa. Panic locked Dean’s throat. There was something out here _killing_ people and Cas was out there alone. Whether or not Dean had ruined their friendship forever, he couldn’t just leave Cas out there on his own.

This kind of fear was one he hadn’t had in ages. He feared many things, but they were all manageable or not an issue in his daily life; now though, his hands were shaking, his mind fuzzy and not because of the alcohol. There was only one thing to do. Still standing on the balcony, he called Cas’ phone. It was terrifying to wait—and worse to get his voicemail. Even an angry Cas would’ve been better than none. Dean navigated through his phone with cold, numb fingers and texted his brother.

_Sammy you awake? It’s important. - D_

He waited impatiently, staring at his phone, forcing Sam to reply. A minute passed, then his phone rang. Sam was calling.

“Hey,” Dean croaked, and only then he realized how hollow his voice sounded.

“ _Dean, are you all right? What’s going on?_ ” Sam’s voice sounded awake, but Dean was sure he’d been sleeping. Hearing his brother’s voice both calmed him and made him more emotional at the same time.

“It’s Cas—he might be in danger, Sam, can you please call him for me?”

“ _Why don’t you_ —? _”_

“Because I pissed him off pretty good, I’m not—I don’t know where he is, please—”

“ _Sure. I’ll call you back.”_ Sam hung up the phone and Dean was alone again, waiting. It seemed to take hours until his phone rang again. He hadn’t even bothered to go inside.

“And?”

_“Nothing. Dean, what happened?”_

“Fuck—” Dean gripped the railing of the balcony. All of a sudden, the bedroom seemed far away. The balcony seemed endless, and the idea that he had to move was terrifying. The world was spinning around him and he closed his eyes, trying to breathe.

“ _Dean? Hey, you there?”_

“Yeah,” Dean choked. “I gotta find him.”

Dean changed into a pair of jeans and grabbed his jacket, a gun tucked into the back of his jeans. He didn’t want to think about having to use it—he’d much rather find Cas at the petting zoo being angry at Dean than in any dangerous situation, but he was afraid luck wouldn’t be on his side.

Thinking about what had happened hurt. Dean would rather erase it from his mind, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Cas, the way Cas had pulled him close in that rough, desperate manner. Dean was sure he hadn’t imagined it, but then why did he pull away? Had Dean done something wrong? Had Cas realized that kissing Dean was actually the worst while Dean had realized kissing Cas was the best? _Enough. Focus_. Dean checked his phone every few moments as he walked. He wasn’t sure where to start looking; the place was huge. As he looked around, it overwhelmed him that he _didn’t know_ where Cas was. He just started running, not even somewhere specific, he just ran. Painful thoughts clogged up his brain. His breath got heavy and faster the more he moved, his chest hurt, his side hurt. _Fuck, I can’t panic_ , he told himself, but the pain stayed. His phone rang. He looked down, desperate to see Cas’ name on the display, but it was Sam.

“Yeah?” Dean asked, standing still to catch his breath, hand pressed on his side.

“ _We tracked his phone—it’s located at the north of the resort.”_

Dean cursed softly and turned around. He started running again, stumbling over his own feet.

“Sammy, I…” He stopped again, trying to regulate his breath. If he didn’t get it together, he was sure he’d pass out. “I can’t do this,” he realized. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d passed out, but he knew he was close to doing so. He stood, trying to breathe, listening to his brother on the phone, saying something to either Jack or Mary.

_"I… We’ll try and do something. Maybe he’s all right, Dean, you don’t know.”_

Dean just continued panting as a reply, walking again. He couldn’t let Cas down, he had to find him, had to…

“Dean?” Jack’s voice. “Hello?”

“Hey—” Dean heaved. “I’ll get him back, don’t worry.”

“I think he’s at the spa.”

“…What?”

“I tried angel radio, Sam and I have been practicing. I don’t know if we actually talked, but…”

“Jack, you’re amazing. The spa makes sense.” Dean started running again. Now he had a place to go, he had his strength back. It was the one place they hadn’t gone—Cas wouldn’t go there at all, especially not at this time of day.

So, Dean ran. He reached the spa building quickly. The doors opened automatically and there were a few lights on in the hall, but Dean saw no one. It was weirdly quiet inside. He checked for security cameras and saw a few, so he didn’t dare pull his gun just yet. With a pounding heart, he walked through the seemingly empty place.

“Cas?” he tried, his voice echoing. There was no reply. “Cas!” He looked at the signs hanging from the ceiling, pointing to different directions. He went left through another hall, walking fast, checking the empty rooms he walked past. He went left again and entered the main room in front of the pool, leading to the changing rooms and several massage treatment rooms.

“Took you long enough.”

Dean spun and stood face-to-face with the waiter from the restaurant.

“What?” Dean asked, frowning, “…you?”

The guy swallowed and blushed again. That confused Dean even more than seeing him here. Had this boy…? Where was Cas? “Where’s Cas?” he asked, walking up to the kid. Before he could get there, the guy flicked his wrist and Dean was pushed against the wall, an invisible force keeping him from moving.

“I have to keep you here,” he said. “Sorry.”

 _Sorry?_ Dean frowned at him, trying to wriggle out of the invisible whatever that was pushing him back. His mind was working at top speed.

“What’s going on?” he asked. “If you hurt Cas, I’m—”

“I’m not hurting him!” The boy seemed frantic, almost distressed. “I just… I had to wait for you.”

Dean frowned again, still struggling with the invisible power that was pushing him against the wall. His mind was racing, thinking about what Sam had said.

“Are you…did you make a deal?” Dean grunted. In his attempt to break free, he accidentally slammed his head back against the wall. The guy (Dean had to keep himself from thinking of him as a boy) winced. His head started pounding again.

“I didn’t—how do you know…?” His behavior confused Dean. This wasn’t a guy who purposefully harmed others; every time Dean hurt himself, the guy seemed to grow paler. He could to use that.

“Look, kid.” Dean grimaced. “What’s your name? I’m Dean.”

“I know.” He seemed to hesitate before he continued. “I’m…I’m Josiah.”

“Hi there, Josiah. I’m a hunter, y’know,” Dean said through gritted teeth. “And I have a smart as hell brother who figured that the thing that’s killing in this place is a philophagus, half demon, half…soul-sucking sonofabitch. He was right, wasn’t he?” Josiah hesitated. His eyes flicked to the door of one of the massage rooms, and Dean couldn’t help but follow his glance. “Tell me,” Dean continued. “You don’t wanna hurt people, I can see that. Who’re you helping?” Josiah looked at Dean and Dean stared back. He saw Josiah weaken and for the first time, Dean was glad he seemed so into him.

“It—it’s my mom,” he said, and though he lowered his arm, Dean still couldn’t move. “You don’t understand, she did it for me!” Dean didn’t say anything, wanting Josiah to talk. He just looked at him, Josiah obviously uncomfortable. “She’s a witch. _I…_ I was born without magic. She kept me safe until she found a way to give me this…” He showed his hands, palms turned upwards. He slowly curled his fingers into fists. “She was scared I’d get hurt, she made a deal. Magic for me, her promise to feed the _thing_ in return.”

“With love,” Dean filled in. Josiah nodded.

“She has nothing but me. She didn’t love anything else, not _really_. So she…she used their love, from the people.” His eyes suddenly filled with tears. “I didn’t want her to, but she said it was the only way to keep me safe… She took their love while massaging, then they’d go home and…”

“They’d hurt their spouse, because they only had hate left. Because it was taken from them.” Dean suddenly understood. “That’s…” He thought of the right word for what he felt about this, the reason for these murders. “…revolting.”

Josiah shivered and looked down, pressing a hand against his eyes. Dean believed what he saw, but that didn’t mean he was any happier about being pinned up against a wall. Besides, he was worried about Cas.

“Alright, I get your mom, yeah? I get she wants to protect her son and all… But this ain’t the way to do it. She’s _killing_ people. Do you wanna live with that in mind?”

“It already happened—I can’t turn back.” Josiah defended, but his voice was shaking and a tear slipped down his face. A flash of another guy, about Josiah’s age, with glitter on his eyelids, made Dean’s mind falter, but he recovered himself.

“No,” Dean said. “You can’t. But you shouldn’t try ‘n change because you weren’t born with something. You didn’t have magic. So what? I didn’t get the mojo either.” He moved his hands as much as he could “Still here. And as much as I’d love to learn how to do all these tricks—” He tried another time to tug himself from the wall. “—I’m not gonna kill innocent people over it.”

“She’s doing it for me!”

“She’s not, Josiah.” Dean wanted to get to Cas, though he wasn’t sure what was being done to him; he just didn’t want him to get hurt. “Don’t you see it? She’s doing it for herself. Because she can’t deal with the idea of outliving her son. If she’d done it for you, she would’ve asked! She would’ve cared that you’re hurt because of what she’s doing. She would’ve accepted you the way you were. "Listen kid. Your mom’s got my—” He hesitated. “Cas, and I have no clue what she’s gonna do to him. But I need you to release me. We can save him, save you both. But you need to let me go first.”

“How will you save _me_?”

“If we stop your mom, no one else has to die for you. And that’s what you want, right, Josiah?”

Josiah made the mistake of looking at Dean’s eyes one last time. He blushed, looked away, and slowly twitched his wrist again. Dean fell to the floor with a thump, just prepared enough to not slam his nose into the shiny tiles. He scrambled up quickly and rubbed the back of his head. He grabbed Josiah’s wrist and pushed through the door he’d noticed earlier when the boy glanced at it.

Dean’s eyes fell on Cas immediately. He was lying on the massage table, eyes closed. There was a woman busy at the counter and she turned when Dean and Josiah entered. Dean didn’t look at her, running to Cas.

“Don’t hurt him!” Josiah yelled and ran to his mom.

“Cas—” Dean cupped his cheek, shaking him softly. “Cas, can you hear me?”

To his relief, Cas mumbled softly. The tightness in his throat eased a bit, but Cas wasn’t fully awake. “Buddy, c’mon, wake up.” Dean ignored the woman’s voice and only vaguely heard Josiah replying. Cas _had_ to wake up. “For Christ’s sake, Cas—” He felt the words tremble on his lips.

“We need him,” the woman said loudly and Dean finally looked at her. She wasn’t one of the people he’d seen before. She looked no more than ten years older than him, but he knew she’d probably lived for hundreds of years.

“ _You_ need him?” Dean scoffed. He stepped in front of Cas, shielding him as much as he could. “We both know that ain’t true.” Josiah was looking at him, standing next to his mother. He was trying to step in front of her, but she kept him behind her. Protecting him. Dean realized that he understood her, but he still didn’t like her. Her eyes were too cold, her face too hard. She’d grown harsh against everything that could be potentially harmful. “What you need is to let go of your son. Stop killing these people just because he wasn’t born like you.”

“He’ll _die_ if I—”

“No. He’ll become mortal. That’s different. What you two are doing isn’t living anyway. He was born without magic. Maybe that’s exactly how he should’ve been. You shouldn’t have tried to fix him.”

The woman’s eyes were an auburn brown, almost red in the artificial light. She narrowed her eyes, glaring at Dean as her hand hovered in front of Josiah. Her face looked dangerous, but her white masseuse outfit couldn’t be less intimidating.

“How dare you walk into my life and tell me how to take care of _my_ son.” Josiah tried to lower her arm, but she ignored him.

“Y’know, it’s kinda the whole killing thing I’m not big on. That’s why I’m telling you to stop pretending that immortality of yours is any more important than the lives of innocent people!”

“…Dean?”

Dean turned around when he heard Cas’ voice. Cas looked dazed. He tried to sit up, blinking into the fluorescent lights. “What are you, how—?” He frowned, realizing where he was. Before Dean could answer, he was knocked off his feet and thrown against another table by a simple flick of the witch’s hand.

“You _bitch_!” He climbed back on his feet and jumped at her. Josiah pushed her hand away, yelling at her to stop. “Cas, get away from her!” Dean yelled, not sure where Cas was. The witch had pulled her arm free and Dean was forced back against a chair, head colliding with it quite hard. He groaned, the world spinning around him. He forced himself to focus, crawling toward Cas. He heard Cas yell something. The door Dean had come through earlier slammed open and two people ran inside. When Dean’s eyes finally focused, he saw Sam and Jack. _How the hell did they…?_

“Dean!” Sam heaved him up and Dean turned. Cas had been on the floor as well but now stood. He looked tired but he stumbled in front of Jack, heaving. If he was confused by their arrival, he didn’t show it.

“You can’t defeat me.” The witch smiled, ignoring her son who was trying to pull her back. The last bit of understanding Dean had had for her was gone. If she’d loved her son so much, she’d listen to him. “I’m stronger than all four of you. I could kill them so easily, Dean.”

“Don’t you dare hurt them!” Dean snapped, stepping up though he couldn’t really physically protect them. The witch smiled and took a step forward, too.

“That’s…so beautiful.” She smiled maliciously and behind Dean, Sam and Jack were slammed against the wall just as Dean had been before. “So much love… I could really use that.”

“Mom—”

She closed her eyes and mumbled something. Next to Dean, Cas sank to the floor and started coughing.

“Cas!” Dean fell on his knees and held him up. Cas’ breathing got deep and heavy in between his coughs. “Stop it!” Dean yelled. He couldn’t do anything, Cas slumped against his side, gripping onto Dean’s shoulder. He could only stare at Cas with a horrified expression as his face grew red, choking on nothing and unable to stop. Behind Dean, he heard Jack and Sam struggled to get loose.

“It’s him,” the witch said, “or your love.”

Dean closed his eyes. He could feel Cas’ fingers tight on his shoulder, his raspy, heaving breath sounding worse and worse.

“Alright, I’ll do it, now cut it out!” Dean yelled. He glared at the witch, who smiled and lowered her arm. Cas stopped coughing and slumped against Dean. He caught him just in time. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” Dean’s fingers trembled as he held Cas up. Cas took deep, calming breaths.

“Dean, you can’t—”

“She was gonna kill you, Cas. I ain’t gonna let that happen.”

“You don’t understand,” Cas panted, grabbing his wrist. “I’m—I’m sorry. For running away.”

“You’re apologizing? Now?”

“Don’t you get it?” Cas’ eyes were teary from coughing. His eyes stared at Dean, the same way he had when they’d gotten home last night, right before Dean had kissed him.

“Oh.” Dean swallowed. He was panting himself, but the room felt awfully quiet. It felt as if hours went by as he just sat and stared. Cas _had_ wanted… But now—Cas had _wanted to kiss him_ … _right?_

“Get up,” the witch snapped. “I don’t have time for this—”

“No.” Josiah suddenly spoke, loud and confident. The witch turned, letting Jack and Sam drop to the floor in surprise. “I don’t want you to hurt anyone anymore.” Josiah stood at the bowl his mother had been preparing. He had his sleeve rolled up, a knife at his arm. “I know how to get it out, y’know. My magic. I can feel it. It’s something I love, so it’s a good offering. Besides, if I give willingly…”

“Josiah—”

“If I give willingly,” he said with more force, “that thing won’t be coming back for more. It’ll be over.” He stared at his mother, then his eyes flicked to Dean and back. “I just don’t want anyone to get hurt because of me. I never wanted any of this. You—you never asked…” The witch opened her mouth, but Josiah shook his head. “I think that I wouldn’t mind being human. And you’ll have to live with that. I’ve been on this earth for twenty years and I don’t even know what living means. Don’t try and hold me back. I made my decision.” He cut a thin, clean wound in his arm, whispering something in Latin. Instead of blood, a blue glowing substance started flowing into the bowl. It reminded Dean of grace.

As it fell, Josiah kept talking in Latin. His mom started to yell at him to stop just as Sam reached Dean and Cas to help them up; the witch reached her son too late. Josiah was already done, the substance already dissolved in the wooden bowl. He gasped, grabbing the counter with his other hand and let the knife drop. For a moment he stood there, breathing heavily as his mother ran up to him. Then, he opened his eyes and looked at her. “It’s all right,” he said, looking at the cut in his arm. It started to bleed slowly. Josiah looked up at Dean, then back to his mother. “I’m free.”

Dean didn’t want to see another spa for at least twenty years after all that. Josiah had told them to leave as they finished the ritual; Sam took that opportunity to get them all outside. Dean was too overwhelmed to disagree and followed willingly.

The early morning air was fresh and cooling on his sweaty face. Cas’ breath slowly turned back to normal, and Dean finally started to realize that it was over.

“Father.” Jack wrapped his arms around Cas and buried his face into Cas’ chest. Cas hugged him back, smiling weakly.

“You did wonderful,” Cas told him. “I’m so proud of you, Jack.”

“He heard Cas,” Sam explained, seeing Dean’s frown. “He’d been practicing zapping around, and he told me that he thought he could try. We ended up in the middle of the park but he did it. Are you two all right?”

“I am,” Dean said, surprised he was able to say that. He accidentally locked eyes with Cas as he slowly let go of Jack.

“I am too,” Cas said, “thank you, Sam.” Cas looked back at Dean. There was an awkward silence, in which they were both waiting for the other to speak. Sam, of course, noticed and cleared his throat. Jack looked back and forth between them, then to Sam.

“My apologies, Dean,” Cas muttered. “I shouldn’t have ran.”

“I shouldn’t have—you know.” Dean wished he didn’t have to do this conversation with his brother and Jack right there next to them.

“Kissed me?”

Dean’s first reaction was to flinch, but instead, he felt his heart jump, and not in a bad way. He didn’t dare to look at Sam’s reaction.

“Yeah, that.”

“That wasn’t the problem,” Cas pointed out, voice shaking. “It was the fact that you didn’t do it earlier. While you were sober.”

“I didn’t know—”

“I thought it was just because you weren’t thinking,” Cas interrupted, nearly frantic, “and I didn’t want that to be the reason.”

“After everything I’ve done and said…you thought I was just doing it because I was _drunk?”_

“Well… It’s kinda what we do. Lying. Pretending. Not talking about how we feel.” Cas said. Dean’s lips curved.

“That’s kind of a dick thing to say.” He didn’t know why he was doing this in front of his brother, in front of Jack. But after everything that had happened, he didn’t really care as much.

“Yeah, it is,” Cas said, and he laughed. That laugh that Dean had grown to love so much. Dean smiled back—he wanted to kiss Cas again, but he knew there would be time for that later.

All four of them were exhausted, ready to sleep for a few hours before wrapping things up and going back home to the Bunker. Sam and Jack got a very quick tour of their villa before they got set up to sleep on the couches. Cas said they’d explain to Helen in the morning that their brother and son had come to pick them up early.

Though Dean _was_ tired, his need to finally be alone with Cas was bigger. He impatiently waited until they’d said goodnight to Sam and Jack before heading upstairs. As soon as Cas closed the door behind them, Dean turned.

“I was so damn scared,” Dean breathed. Cas didn’t bother turning on the light, blindly reaching for Dean’s arm. “Don’t ever run away from me again.”

“Dean—”

“Promise me,” Dean demanded. He pulled Cas close, as close as they’d been right before their kiss. “Never leave me like that.” He ran his fingers through Cas’ hair, slowly.

“I won’t. I promise.”

Dean kissed him roughly, desperately. There’d be time for soft, tender promises. Now, waiting would mean more time wasted turning and twisting as they’d done for weeks. Dean tugged at the shirt Cas was wearing, that _damn_ shirt, and pulled it off, together with his own. Cas shivered when his chest was exposed to the cold air. Dean realized he’d left the balcony door open and it was near freezing.

“C’mon, gotta get you warm,” Dean hummed, pulling Cas toward the bathroom door. “You haven’t used that shower yet, have you?”

“Dean…” Cas breathed. “I want to—”

Dean understood the enlarged, lust-blown pupils, the way Cas was pushing his body closer, lips reaching for Dean’s neck. He let it happen, tilted his head and groaned through his smile.

“Shower’s big enough for— _ah_ , the both of us,” Dean managed, tugging Cas into the bathroom and closing the door.

A minute of fumbling with the buttons in between kissing and shedding their clothes. With Cas’ bare arms roaming his shoulders, his chest, Dean stumbled backward into the shower where, with a quick twist of the handle, it was already getting warm.

“Careful, Dean…” Cas said, catching him, keeping him upright. “I got you.” He kissed Dean’s neck, rough and hard but with more love than Dean had felt in years. Cas’ hands were strong, pressing him against the wall. Fingers trembling, mapping out Cas’ skin, Dean forgot both pain and fear. He’d held Cas before—in the bed just on the other side of this door and in hugs that lasted too long—but now he didn’t have to hold back. Steam started fogging up the shower around them, dampening their hair and skin.

“Cas…” Dean worked his hand up his back, pulling him closer. Cas’ naked body pressed up against his was strong—Dean realized how much muscle Cas hid beneath all those clothes. He’d seen it, the toned arms, his chest, his back, but he’d never _felt_ it. It radiated power. All this time, these days spent in confusion and awkward pretending, Dean had been wanting to do this, to _not_ pretend. Neither of them were pretending now. Dean gripped the muscle of Cas’ shoulders, nails digging in. There’d be marks everywhere, but it didn’t seem to be enough for Cas. He demanded Dean get closer, a hand roaming down his back and cupping his ass, squeezing it and pulling him in. Dean could barely believe this was the man who’d looked so insecure a few hours ago. The heat of the shower had made their skin slippery and hot. Cas couldn’t seem to find grip on the wall as he tried to steady Dean against him.

“Wait—” Dean breathed as Cas kissed down his neck. Heatedly, desperately, Cas looked at him. “Don’t hurt yourself, angel.”

“I won’t,” Cas promised. Dean kissed him again and ran his tongue along Cas’ teeth, teasingly slow compared to the way their hands were constantly trailing over each other’s skin. The heat should’ve slowed them down but they were already sweaty, heated by both steam and months of kept up hiding. Dean bit down Cas’ lower lip, drawing a growl from deep in Cas’ throat. Cas kissed him even harder and his hands cupped Dean’s slim hips. He slid one hand over Dean’s upper leg, wet and glistening. Without a warning, Cas’ hand grabbed Dean’s inner thigh, hand brushing against the base of Dean’s cock as he pushed his legs open. Dean was unable to hold back a whimper as the small touch had arousal pooling in his stomach.

“Fuck, _fuck_ , Cas—” Cas was beautiful, with plump lips parted and dark eyes, hair sticking to his forehead. He’d never looked more human. He seemed to glow.

“Dean, I—” Cas breathed, his voice hitching. “ _Please…_ ”

Dean kissed him quiet as he grabbed Cas’ hand and pushed it against his shaft without hesitation. It drew a surprised, rough moan from Cas and shivers ran down Dean’s spine. Dean guided his hand, let Cas find a rhythm; he let go and blindly teased his fingers over Cas’. The sounds Cas made were the most sinful yet most beautiful things Dean had ever heard. He’d always imagined Cas would be the rough type, but had never dared to believe that he’d groan so hard, the sound echoing in the bathroom. By now, Dean was achingly hard, thrusting into Cas’ hand. It’d been too long and Cas was too much. He dug his nails back into Cas’ shoulders, sure to now have created scratches in the toned skin.

“Cas, I can’t—” he warned, “I’m gonna friggin’ come if you don’t calm down…”

“I don’t mind,” Cas said almost calmly, but his voice was dangerously low. “I _can’t_ wait… Dean, I’ve never…”

Dean should’ve realized that Cas had never done this, not as a human and probably not as an angel, and that he was acting fully on instinct and intuition. That overwhelmed him; Cas had no idea how crazy he was driving Dean, how mind-blowing this was even for _Dean._ And he wasn’t even trying to so anything special, he was just doing what felt right. He was just being the angel that Dean fell for so long ago.

“Go on, then, baby.” Dean dug his nails into Cas’ shoulders to steady himself as he felt his knees grow weak. “Don’t wait, please don’t stop.”

Cas obeyed. He wasn’t trying, he was just _doing_.

“ _Dean—”_

“Come on, Cas,” Dean begged, his own cock hard and heavy in Cas’ hand. His other hand found a way to Dean’s shoulder and forced him closer. His chest heaved against Dean’s. Dean’s name fell from Cas’ lips again, a warning before he tensed and came on Dean’s stomach and leg. Dean stared at him, his eyes closed and mouth open, body trembling in the aftershocks. When Cas looked up at Dean, still panting, Dean couldn’t wait any longer. He reached down to get himself off, but Cas smacked his hand away.

“No, I will—” It only took a few strokes until Dean’s vision blurred and he could only feel the heat of Cas’ body pressed against his, holding Dean in his ecstasy. Dean was sure he was too loud as Cas kept stroking him through his orgasm but he couldn’t care less—he pushed himself against Cas, wanting to feel all this overwhelming, long-awaited pleasure as close to him as possible.

They were gentle as they showered, soft lips on soft skin. The water was weirdly solid after the steam all around them, but it felt great. Cas hugged Dean from behind, quietly dragging his fingers over his skin, mapping out his freckles.

“I sometimes dreamed about this, too,” Cas said softly as he worked shampoo into Dean’s hair gently, kissing his shoulder. “I mean…you and me, being together.”

Dean smiled. “Yeah?” He leaned into Cas’ chest and let the water hit his head. How long had it been since someone else washed out the soap from his hair? He couldn’t remember. This was the kind of massage Dean wouldn’t say no to. Ones done by Cas were more than welcome. He hummed in approval, lips curving. “Are they better than the nightmares?”

“Definitely.”

Dean turned and grabbed the bottle of shampoo.

“Turn around, Sugar Butt.”

Cas glared at him, brows furrowed in a confused, but slightly amused expression. “Your nicknames are getting incredibly ridiculous, Dean.” He turned around anyway as Dean snickered.

“But you listen to them,” Dean said, massaging shampoo into Cas’ dark hair. “So I’ll keep using them.”

Cas’ laugh was soft and deep. Dean loved that laugh. He didn’t dare speak about Cas’ grace and if he’d ever get it back, not daring to break this magical moment. They’d talk, later. He washed the soap out of Cas’ hair, the sweet scent dissolving around them. Dean kissed Cas’ shoulder, his neck, turned him around, and brought their lips together. They were calm now, fully relaxed under the water as Dean pushed his fingers through Cas’ tousled hair.

“C’mon, gotta get to bed.” Dean said as he reached to turn off the shower. “I hope we didn’t…disturb Sam and Jack too much.”

“I don’t think so,” Cas said. “The house is very large; I’m sure you can barely hear what happens in here.”

Dean couldn’t help but smirk. “We should get something like this in the Bunker, don’t ya think?”

He stepped out of the shower, the cold air creating goosebumps on his wet skin. He quickly grabbed two towels and gave one to Cas. Cas bit away a smile.

“Maybe we should.”

Lying naked in bed, Dean pressed his head against Cas’ shoulder. The room was chilly, but they were covered by warm sheets and pressed close. Dean didn’t need luxury or expensive trips anymore—he could have this anywhere, from a cheap motel room to his own room in the Bunker. And as he turned, meeting Cas’ half-lidded eyes to kiss the corner of his lips and whisper goodnight, he realized that was definitely something to look forward to.

***

“Honey Bunny, give me that shirt.”

“ _Dean,_ stop it.” Cas rolled his eyes as he threw it at him; Dean caught it, grinning, and pulled it over his head.

“I know you keep a list of the names, babe, so don’t even try,” he said, his voice muffled. Cas wisely didn’t reply to that and Dean chuckled triumphantly as he pulled his head through. Cas had his back turned, looking for a shirt himself. Dean reached behind him and kissed his bare shoulder, let his fingers glide over the white scars. He knew their place by heart. Cas always relaxed when he did that. He sighed while leaning into Dean, as if the touch was what made him breathe. Dean leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Do you think Jack has finished the pancakes yet?”

“I think so. He’s getting better at it every day.” Cas smiled.

“He has a great teacher.” Dean playfully slapped Cas’ ass and let him get dressed.

As Cas talked about Mary having taught the basics (and thus being the better teacher), Dean smiled, simply watching Cas’ every move. He was fully human now. They both knew it, they both accepted it. Jack knew, too, he’d felt it happen and came running into their bedroom to check if Cas was okay. Maybe Sam and Mary knew, too, but no one talked about it. Cas seemed to handle it well, though Dean knew he was hurting. But Cas wouldn’t be Cas if he wouldn’t pretend everything was fine.

As they got into the kitchen a few minutes later, Jack was just putting more pancakes on the plate. His face was red and he was wearing a Star Wars shirt, currently covered in flour.

“Morning,” Dean said, inhaling the scent that had filled the Bunker’s kitchen. “So when are you’re gonna apply for chef?” Jack beamed at the compliment, so surprised he almost dropped the spoon.

Sam walked in, his hair wet from the shower.

“Good morning Sam,” Jack said cheerfully, then leaned in as if to tell a secret. “Dean says I should become a chef.”

Sam shared a smile with his brother and sat down at the table.

“You could.” He grinned. “Start a bakery with Cas.”

Dean flopped down on a chair next to his brother and Cas sat opposite him. Dean leaned back as Sam and Cas talked, lazily rubbed his foot against Cas’ under the table and watched Jack hurry around in the kitchen.

After they were joined by Mary and Jack had finished the pancakes, they had breakfast and chatted, laughing and getting themselves ready for their day. The evil in the world hadn’t gone, there was still pain and fear and hate—but there was also this. Their lives weren’t easy, but they were good on mornings like this. They had their silver linings. Dean looked at Cas and wondered if he could find him a bunny and if they could keep it happy in the Bunker. He would talk to Sam about it. Because even though this place wasn’t filled with luxury, it felt more like home than ever.


End file.
